He fired twice in quick succession, meaning to hit exactly under the fish-like belly of the machines, directly below where he knew the driver sat and the first shot he believed he had missed. He felt pretty sure of the other; he even thought he saw the direct result of it in a glare of light, a shower of jumbled sparks and stars, and then, there was sudden blackness.
"What in thunder—how'd I get here?" was the corporal's question of Lieutenant Jackson, who stood over his cot, smiling a little. But that was not an important matter just then; there were big comments being saved for Herbert's return of wits.
"Great Jupiter, my boy! By jingo! I never saw shooting like that! None of us ever did! The next minute they would have played havoc with things in here. Letty couldn't get at them and Watson couldn't and not one of my men, but you—oh, you could beat Doc. Carver! Wonderful!"
"Say, if you'd make it a little clearer to me I'd know what you're referring to," Herb protested. "Let's see; it was—oh, yes; I think I remember: taubes, weren't they? Where'd they get to?"
"They got to earth, you bet! Can't you recollect? You must have been worse stunned than I thought. You got 'em both, boy; got 'em both. Hit the first one so that it went down into the hill above and your second bullet started something going in the hind machine and it blew up and tossed those two fellows out and it turned turtle. She lies out there, looking more like a dump heap at home than anything else. You were hit by a fragment. You're a dandy!"
"You are that!" echoed Letty, from the opening. "I'll bet those Boches down there will study awhile before they send on any more fliers here! Feel better, Whitcomb?"
"Pretty much. Head aches. Any bones busted? Guess not. Sore in spots, though. Well, getting out in the air and sunshine would feel better. Want to see what happened," said Herbert, rising from his cot.
"Wonderful! Wonderful shooting!" repeated the lieutenant.
"Yes, and four Boches the less!" declared Letty.